


On Love: Lyrics

by phisen, TenchiKai



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot Collection, Romance, Smut, stories based on lyrics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10358571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phisen/pseuds/phisen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai
Summary: A one shot collection focusing on Yuuri and Victor, based on lyrics.1) I Told You So - Keith Urban / phisen2) I'm Coming After You - Owl City / TenchiKai3) You Belong Here - Anberlin / phisen4) 27 - Fall Out Boy /TenchiKai





	1. For worse or for better, we're better together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (phisen)  
>  **Sometimes it's like we're deep in nothing but love  
>  The slightest thing can grow so foolishly  
> Remind me, please  
> Oh, can't you see  
> That for worse or for better we're better together?**  
>  _I Told You So_ , Keith Urban

He had thought of it as a lover’s spat. The kind of argument you have, get over and just forgets about. But, for some reason, there was no getting over it. The argument they had two days ago seemed to stay with them. Fester in the walls of the flat and seep into them as soon as they saw each other.

It had gotten out of hand. He knew this as soon as others got dragged in. Not that others had to choose sides, that would have made him even more furious, but the fact that they couldn’t keep what should have been private, well… private.

“Yuuri!” He didn’t even try to keep his voice civil. “Come here! I know you can hear me!” 

He stopped what he was doing, on the other side of the rink. Gave him a look that he just wanted to wipe off his face.

He could feel the others looking at him too. That voice was something they probably never had heard from him. That intonation had been something else. Something he wasn’t proud of. But it was as if the chalice containing his patience had started to overflow, there was no going back.

“Well?! Are you coming or not?”  _ Why hide it? It’s already out in the open. _

He came closer, picked up a little speed and stopped a few paces in front of him. Defiantly creating a small cloud of ice as his momentum waned.

“What?!” He sounded annoyed too. 

“Honestly! Haven’t I told you, time and time again that you need to straighten your back and not flex it like that? You can injure yourself! It’s like you don’t even care!”

Instead of answering, he started to skate for the exit.

“Are you just going to leave? We’re practising! If you’re not going to take this seriously, my time and my commitment, then-”

“Then what? Tell me, Victor? Then what?!”

He bit his tongue. This wasn’t anything for the others to enjoy.  _ This _ was supposed to be private. He watched as he got off the ice, angrily tried to get his skate guards on before giving up. Leaving them on the edge of the boards with a loud bang.  _ Not even his skates are treated with respect. _

He saw him leave for the locker rooms, and decided to let him have it. Although he was boiling inside.

He decided to get off the ice himself. They eyes of the others present was almost burning him.

“Victor? What’s wrong with you two? This is a workplace for some of us, you hear?” Yakov’s scolding voice was the last straw.

“Not now, Yakov! Don’t go there! Don’t push me!” He put on his skate guards and took Yuuri’s with him.  _ I swear… I really hope you’ve left already, Yuuri Katsuki. I am so angry with you. _

* * *

 

Of course, he hadn’t left. He was stretching, not giving him as much as a glance when he entered. Why was it that everything he did was so infuriating? It was like he was deliberately trying to see what would push him off the edge. Not knowing that he had succeeded doing it as soon as he got off the ice.

He stood beside him, waiting for him to acknowledge him. It never happened. He waited for him to take his skate guards. It never happened. He wanted him to say something, anything. It never happened. What did happen, was him putting his skates in his backpack. Leaving him behind, without a word.

He hurried to lace his own off, putting them and Yuuri’s skate guards in his messenger bag and flung it over his shoulder. He wasn’t having it, not for a second longer. He had to make him explain himself, no matter what.

He exited the locker rooms and walked outside with quick strides. He could see him, he wasn’t hurrying. He could easily catch up to him without running, he concluded. 

He caught up with him without no effort. Walked beside him without saying anything. He was about to go off, tell him everything he thought about him and his behaviour from earlier, but managed to stay calm. He decided he had enough of public displays for the time being.

They came home, eventually. Stood silently and waited for the lift to arrive. He glanced at him. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes fixed forward. He was still agitated, he could tell. He was too, although not as much as before.

As the lift dinged, Yuuri was first to enter. He pushed the button to their floor and avoided his gaze as he entered the lift after him. He bumped into him a little, totally by accident, and got a brief eye contact. 

He felt cold as their eyes met for that second. He wasn’t angry. Those brown eyes were displaying something else entirely. He was distraught. Biting back tears, blinking repeatedly to stop them from flowing.

“Yuuri?”

He never got an answer as the lift dinged, leaving him behind one more time.

“Yuuri!” He hurried after him, managed to slip through the door before it closed. “Hey, hey… Stop. Just… stop.”

He saw him freeze, halfway to the bathroom, still wearing his coat and backpack. He had kicked off his shoes on his way there, not even been bothered to stand still.

He dropped his bag in the hallway, and shrugged off his coat. He took off his shoes and gave the dog a pat before approaching him.

“Yuuri… honestly. Let’s just-”

“No!” His voice quivered with emotion. “I told you before! I said no!”

He came closer, put his arms around him from behind. Let his cheek touch his, lingered to relish the first intimate contact they’ve had in days. That made him break. 

He felt him quake in his arms. He felt the temples of his glasses brush against his face as he removed them, and he was quick to wipe his eyes with his sleeve. He felt him sigh, trying to gain some of that lost composure and control.

“Come. Love, please. Turn around.”

He did. 

As they faced each other, he helped him get rid of his backpack. Helped him get out of his coat. He had to dry his tears with his hands, kiss away that sadness that painted his face, hold him close to let him know that what they had been doing to each other was forgotten.

“Victor,” he sobbed against his chest. “I… I don’t want to fight with you about this. No more.”

“I know. I know, love.” He pulled him even closer. Wanted to feel that sensation of him just belonging there, fitting perfectly against him. “But, Yuuri? You know what?”

He felt him shake his head, his hair tickled his chin as he did.

“I’d like you think about it at least. I mean… It’s not like I’m asking you to kill anyone, right?”

“No.” His voice was barely audible now. “No, I know. It’s just that… I’ll be failing you if I did. I can’t stand the thought of it.”

“Love, seriously… There’s nothing… I just…” He laughed, probably out of disbelief.  _ He’s just something else. _

“What… what would happen if I did?” He had pulled back a bit from him now, his voice was louder and clearer than before. “Would you think less of me?”

He looked into his eyes, to make sure that he wasn’t joking. To Victor, it was a really strange thing to say. To even think. But that’s how he worked, that fianceé of his.

“Of course not! I… Oh, Yuuri. You’re amazing, you know that? You just keep surprising me and this… this was really something else.”

He got a small laugh in response.

“I’m so sorry, Victor. It… I just…”

“Hush now. Can you at least think about it? I mean… I have and I want to. The details aren’t all that important. Not anymore.”

“But… you said that-”

“Please. I told you, it’s not important anymore.”

He felt his lips on his own. The wonderful taste and feeling of him. The final ember of resentment got extinguished, just like that. He just wanted to have access to this, to him, as long as he drew breath.

As they parted, he heard him whisper in his ear. The words he had been hoping to hear ever since the argument started, two days ago. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling. He just had to respond to the words he knew would change their future, their relationship, with the same warmth.

“Of course you don’t have to win gold. And… I’d say yes to you in a heartbeat.”


	2. I'm coming after you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TenchiKai)
> 
>  **"You've got the right to remain right here with me. Love is a high speed chase, racing down the street. I'm coming after you."**  
>  _I’m Coming After You_ , Owl City
> 
> OH MAN. Writing Victor is so difficult for me. He’s … mysterious, to say the least. This was an attempt. I hope you enjoy!

It was painful, the time spent away from him. It surprised him, how much he crossed his mind. It wasn’t normal, he was sure of it. He questioned his sanity. It had been months since the banquet where the young Japanese man had spent an evening dancing with him, and he just couldn’t let it go. His mind… no, his heart, wouldn’t let him.

His legacy, the things he was known for, were weighing him down rather than raising him up. The gold medals were meaning less and less. It seems like nothing he could do would surprise anyone anymore, much less the audience. He had stopped surprising himself a long time ago. The fake smiles he gave, the facade he put on for the world… it was harder and harder to make it real, to bring it to life.

And all of this, without his heart letting him go. All of this, hoping maybe he’d see him again. But he never did. He didn’t compete, didn’t make it far enough for them to cross paths again.

It was like the world, the universe, was laughing at him. Mocking him. It gave him have a small taste of the one thing he craved, the one thing that could ignite his passion, and then ripped it away.

He tried explaining this, these feelings, to his best friend. He had heard the words, but he didn’t _understand._ He had laughed, and asked him why he didn’t simply _go to him._

“He did ask you to coach him,” he had said, pointing out the _obvious._ Like those words, that feeling, could ever be forgotten.

“I’ve told you already. I haven’t heard from him since,” a pause. The hurt was almost oozing from his voice. The frown visible on a face that spent most of the time smiling. “He clearly doesn’t want to remember. Or doesn’t care.”

And more months passed, and he tried to let it go. He did, he tried. That’s what everyone told him to do, anyway. Eventually, the season had ended. Another gold medal for his trophy case in his empty flat. It was time to create new programs to use, time to prepare for the next season. The wheel kept spinning.

And why not? It’s what he always did, after all. Forget motivation or inspiration.

...Inspiration? What inspired him? The answer was _him_. It seemed like he was the answer for a lot of things these days.

Using hints of movements from that night, letting the memories of the touches, laughs, and the _feeling_ fuel him, he created his short program. Well, two of them. Eros, but also agape. He had felt them both, somehow. Maybe that could surprise the audience, the way it surprised him. It was the only card he had left to play.

It was obvious to anyone that was there that night, who witnessed the dance, who saw his face light up that night. He was trying to capture that feeling, on the ice. It was all he could do with the ache crawling under his skin. Express it. Let it out. Give it a platform.

Maybe, he thought, maybe he’ll notice. Maybe he’ll see. Maybe he’ll finally _finally_ reach out. Somehow.

That was the only thing giving him a small bit of peace. The _maybe._

Before he could skate Eros on the ice in front of the world, before he could plan anything out, the same best friend who had told him to run, told him to go, sent him a wordless message with a link to a video.

And what he saw took the breath right out of his lungs. Hit him with the velocity of a moving vehicle. The same person who, months ago, had placed last at the Grand Prix Final, was skating his very program. The video didn’t need music, it didn’t need anything. This was the same man who had stolen a piece of him.

He knew two things. The first was that this young man was better than placing last. He deserved a gold medal, and he wasn’t sure what was holding him back from it. The second was that this was a message. He was calling out to him.

He wanted a coach? Fine. He could be his coach.

He was going. Nothing could stop him.

He wasn’t sure when he had packed, or reserved the flight. But he had done all those things, and he was going.

_Yuuri, I'm coming after you._


	3. You belong here, you were meant for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (phisen)
> 
> **  
> You belong here, you were meant for me  
>  You belong here, you belong here with me  
> You were meant to be with me  
> You are the better part you'll see, always have and always will  
> You'll be the better part of me, oh, for the rest of my life  
> And I know I'm asking too much, and I know I'm all control  
> But, I'll give you all I have  
> It isn't much, much at all. I'm not much at all**  
>  _You belong here_ , Anberlin

 

It’s hard, knowing that things are about to end. Their journey had gotten them this far, to a hotel room in Barcelona. They were quiet, somber. Knowing that they would have to make decisions for themselves. If there was supposed to be an ‘us’ or not.

Yuuri was hesitant. He saw their time together as something fragile. As something that was about to end. Maybe he had decided it for himself, that their time together was limited to save himself from heartbreak?

He had always thought of his time together with the person he’d been looking up to, no, worshipped even, to be fleeting from the start. Just a moment in time that would pass him by. But at the same time, he wanted more. More time with him. More of him.

How do you tell someone else that you need them? That you want to be with them? That you… yes, that you love them? He felt his cheeks heat up a little. Yes, he knew that he loved him. He finally understood that feeling he got whenever he saw him, heard him, felt him close. How can you convey such a thing when you’re bad with words? Bad with just about... everything?

They had kissed. They had slept in the same bed. They had spent every moment awake together, but still there was this final step. The ultimate proof of love and trust that he still hadn’t shown him.

He glanced at him from where he stood, across the room. He was looking out of the window, pulling his hair back from his face. He still couldn’t believe that he had seemed to have chosen him. Over everyone else. Even without knowing… everything about him. That final piece of the puzzle that was as unfamiliar and unexplored to Victor as it was to himself.

He decided to walk over to him, join him where he was. He touched his back as he came close and got a beaming smile in return. An arm found its way around his shoulders, pulled him a little closer. Even though they’d been on a plane for hours, he smelled divine. 

“Gorgeous city, isn’t it?” His words sounded low, spoken into his hair.

“Yes, it is. I envy people in Europe. There’s so much history here.” 

The hand around his shoulders found its way into his hair instead.

“I like Japan better. Especially the people.”

He could only laugh at his remark.

“So… what do you want to do? Rest up a bit? Go out?” His blue eyes were sparkling with anticipation. He resembled a child in a way. A child wanting to experience new things for the thrill of it.

He knew what he wanted for himself. He felt selfish thinking about it. Why was it that he suddenly got that sting of guilt? He thought of himself as a hypocrite.  _ I’m the one who… wants to take you away. Steal you away from the world. I want you. I want you to be mine. _

“I, uh…” How do you say such a thing? That you want someone to be yours? To stay with you and never leave? “I was thinking of staying here… for a while.”

“That’s fine, Yuuri. You need to rest before tomorrow.” That hand had found its way around the nape of his neck. 

The feeling his fingers left behind as they trailed softly back into his hair again made him shudder. He was sure that he had goosebumps all over. He had that effect on him, it really wasn’t the first time.

“And, um, Victor?”

“Mhm?” 

“Are you going to, I mean, you are probably…”  _ I just… I just can’t say it! It just won’t come out! _

He noticed him being flustered, of that he was sure. That hand had found its way to his cheek now. What a journey it had made too, he thought to himself.

He dared to touch that lingering hand a little. He felt his heart race, he felt… caught in the moment. With those blue eyes looking back at him, it only added to the sensation. Of being caught. Of being a prisoner.

“I… just, kind of wanted to…” 

And his lips was close to his, touching his, digging into his. He had to break away, feeling surprised and embarrassed at the same time. That he had actually done that. To him.

“Yuuri?” That voice of his… yes, he knew. He understood what he wanted. What he wanted to give him. But there was a slight hesitation in those blue eyes, he thought. Like he wanted to make sure that he was sure. That he was ready.

He felt his hands on him, on his shoulders. There was no need to delay the inevitable.

As he took off his shirt, pulled it over his head with slight hesitation, the reaction he was awarded made him bolder. That sharp inhale said everything, those hands that instantly found his skin said even more. He removed his glasses, dropped them on the floor where they stood. 

“So, I…” He tried to say something that would sound good, something that would make them both remember that moment, but he found it hard. To dress those feelings into words was impossible. He decided that he could try to show him what he felt instead. Surely, that would make them remember.

The buttons of his shirt were almost impossible to undo. His fingers were trembling, showing just a little bit of the strange trepidation he was feeling on the inside. He didn’t want his help, though. Of that, he was sure. He wanted to do this. Do this for them.

Easing the shirt off his shoulders, hearing it fall to the floor with an almost inaudible crumple, was worth so much more than any medal. If he was getting this, getting him, there was no need to compete.

Thoughts raced through his head. How do you do this? What do you do to make it feel good? He just didn’t know, he realised.

He felt his pulse everywhere, that disabling, pounding rush. It made him gasp a little for air, like he’d forgotten to breathe. Instantly, he felt his face heat up. He felt awkward and unsure.  _ Is this a normal reaction in a situation like this? _

But he was patient, that god-like person in front of him. With soft eyes and a reassuring smile, he egged him on. It acted like fuel on a flame.

He came at him. There wasn’t any buts, nos, maybes or what-ifs in his head anymore. With a soft breath against his lips, a caressing word in all its simplicity, they ended up together. Entwined.

“There.”

A laugh. “What, here, or…”

“Yes,” he commanded. 

With his lips, he forced him down. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with his hands, so they ended up in his hair. Gripping the silver strands tight, like he was holding on for dear life. Like the moment would slip through his fingers if he eased up. 

Being that focused, feeding on his mouth with hands gripping his hair, he never noticed the hands on his back, pressing him close. Eventually, he felt the flex of his lower back, how he was digging into him with the waning help of hot and concentrated hands.

Every taste of him and his lips made him grow confident. He dared to ease up on that grip. Felt sure enough that they would remain as they were if he let his hands travel somewhere else. 

Where his hands went, his mouth followed. He wanted to feel everything that was exposed to him, taste everything as well. A soft hum told him that he appreciated the treatment, as he let his hands, lips and tongue acquaint themselves with his chest. 

He had to stop. Catch his breath. That heady feeling was something he never wanted to leave behind, but he had to. Just for a couple of seconds. He suddenly felt self conscious, breathing through his mouth.

“What are you doing to me,” he panted.

“I want to ask you the same,” he replied as he sat up, the blue eyes vibrating. “Want me to…” 

“Y… yes. Yes.”

He didn’t have to ask him what he meant. Like they was one entity, feeding off each other’s signals with an unbelievable precision. 

He pressed him against the headboard, feeling a little huff of air flow against his stomach. He wanted to apologise for being forceful, but that thought disappeared as soon as he felt the tug around his waist, when his clothes were clawed off his hips.

With both of his hands against the wall, he moaned. He wanted to keep his eyes open, he wanted to see what he was doing to him, but he couldn’t. Not without the risk of expiring. The warm, soft and wet feeling was enough, he decided. He didn’t have to look. 

Suddenly, it stopped. His eyes flung open, instantly finding his as they were looking up at him.

“Push all you like.”

He noticed the smile before he became enveloped again. Before he took his advice to heart and drowned in the feeling of helping hands on his hips.

The sensation was indescribable. How carnal the act was, how the buildup was claiming him with every push and pull, like a heat travelling upwards, consuming him from within. How that brief look from underneath silver lashes made him cross the edge and enter oblivion. He think he cried out as he fell. It felt like his throat tensed up although he never heard a sound being produced.

The feeling he was left with was reassuring arms around him, holding him up as he tried to return. As he started to come down from the incredible high he never wanted to disappear.

“Stay with me and never leave.” The words whispered in his ear was the last thing he remembered before another stupor claimed him.


	4. Homesickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TenchiKai)  
>  **If home is where the heart is, then we’re all just fucked.**  
>  - _27_ , Fall Out Boy

“You are happy here, right?” Victor had asked, finally, after some avoiding the issue. The elephant in the room.

He held his hands as he said the words, looking into his brown eyes. Searching for the answer he wanted with his blue orbs. Was he not making him happy anymore? Too often he caught his love in long phone conversations with his mother, going through old pictures, or just simply sighing to himself often. Too often did he seem close to tears.

On their sofa - their sofa - he waited for an answer, intertwining their fingers and waiting for Yuuri to find his words. He had learned to be patient when it came to the hard conversations.

Yuuri had been here with him for some months now, had found his new comfort in what used to be Victor’s apartment. It was the happiest he had ever been, here in his - their - home, their space. His heart, soul, was warm here.

Just being in his presence was still like walking in the haze of a dream at times. He knew this is where love was, there was no question. Being able to kiss him, hold him, whenever he wanted was everything to him. The gold on his finger had made him comfortable… but … 

There was always a small voice, a call, in the back of his mind. The seagulls. His mother’s cooking. Even, at times, the smell of his sister’s cigarettes. He had tried to comfort it, quiet it. With long conversations, looking back over old pictures, and trying and failing to recreate his mother’s recipes. 

Try as he might, it was there, and he couldn’t explain it. But he could try.

“It’s like I’m in two places at once,” he tried to explain. “I was gone for five years for college, but it never gets any easier. I know you don’t understand, but…”

This was difficult. The brown eyes he loved so much looked glossy. He knew that he was holding back tears, biting back his emotions. He didn’t want him to have to. Didn’t want him to need to do that. But the truth is…

He was having his own trouble, too. Trouble understanding, trouble connecting with him on this level. It wasn’t a feeling he knew, wasn’t a feeling he had even felt before. His home was skating, where he felt the best and most empowered. As a result, he was never homesick.

When he had been there, visited Japan, Yuuri’s home, he had fallen in love with it himself. Even in the winter months, the beaches were beautiful. The hot spring had been more welcoming and relaxing than he had ever expected.

It had been such an interesting experience, one he will cherish forever. His family had welcomed him without question, without worry. There was this strange understanding, respect.

When he left for Japan, overcome with emotion, he hasn’t expected to find a place he would consider a second home, but he did. He wasn’t sure what he expected, only what he wanted. However, in the smiles the people always gave him, the respectful distance the townspeople kept, the food he was able to eat, he had found peace.

“I wish I could say I understand how you feel,” he murmured. “But the truth is homesickness is a foreign language to me.”

The brown eyed man bit his bottom lip and broke eye contact, still trying to find words. “You’ve never...missed a place so much that you wanted to go back?”

“Of course I have,” the fingers that hadn’t yet let go squeezed. He expression turned somewhat thoughtful. “I even miss Hasetsu myself sometimes.”

“Then you understand a little. It’s hard, leaving my family behind.”

Something clicked then, for Victor. “I do know what that’s like.”

Brown eyes met blue ones, questioningly. Family is a sore subject for Victor, and didn’t come up often. The words made him feel more than a little skittish, but he was going to ask them. “What do you mean?”

“Remember, when Makka was sick, and I had to leave you to skate on your own?” Hearing his name, the poodle began a pant a little on the opposite side of the room where he had been resting.

Images flooded Yuuri’s mind of Victor’s expression as they ran towards one another, glass keeping them apart. How he had been filled with every emotion accessible to him, and practically jumped into his arms that had been waiting for him.

“Of course I do! That was so difficult, I was used to having you by my side.” And then, it hit him. “You’re … calling me family now, aren’t you?”

“Of course, love. You are.” A kiss to his gold ring. And a tight hug that warmed him from his head to his toes.

That didn’t fix the missing pieces, but it did make them less noticeable. One thing Yuuri would never do again is question Victor’s love.


End file.
